


come to find the world is unkind (but not you)

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Is A Good Friend, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit | Janus Sanders-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Isolation, Morally Neutral Deceit | Janus Sanders, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Theft, Trauma, Trust Issues, Underage Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Victim Blaming, if we missed any tags please tell us, not believing victims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He knows that there’s nothing he can say that will make this situation look better or that will make Remus understand. Nobody’s believed him yet; nobody’s cared enough to even listen before, let alone had the chance to decide whether or not to believe him.And he knows Remus is no different. There are no exceptions.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	come to find the world is unkind (but not you)

He’s nine, all wild curls, skinned knees and oversized coats. He’s told he’s quiet, smaller than most everyone else his age, and he accepts this because it’s not like he’s known anything different. Most of the adults accuse him of scheming, of being nothing but trouble because of his smiles and stares; this, too, he accepts, even if he knows that he’s done nothing of the sort and is just curious and bored. Teachers put him in the back of the class so they don’t have to deal with him and kids his age have already found inner circles of friends, so he spends his time alone, doodling on his assignments and poking holes in his erasers. Already there’s a permanent tremor that runs through his hands and a practiced smile that remains fixed on his face, and nobody questions either of these things even when he wishes they would—

He’s eleven and he sits in the passenger seat of his mother’s car, squished from the amount of boxes that are packed into the backseat and sticky from the summer heat, fidgeting with his buckle and watching his mother as she drives. Bruises are only just starting to fade from her arms and her hair is let down, messy and greying, but when she looks at him her expression is nothing but soft and adoring, gently telling him that this is for the best. They’re going to start a new life, a better one, and he’ll never have to keep another secret or tell another lie like he has these past few months, keeping the truth from his father. He thinks the assurance is unnecessary, given the burns covering half of his face and the fact his knee still clicks when he walks—

He’s thirteen and doubled over the toilet, shaking from head to toe and dry heaving despite the burning need to rid himself of the disgusting feeling writhing in his chest. Phantom touches run along his body and invisible lips press against his, and all he hears is his aunt and uncle’s voices, cooing and sweet and disgustingly warm. He thinks of telling his mother but all he remembers is her looking at him with annoyance, accusing him of making up a story the last time this happened, “you know this is why I can’t believe the things you say anymore, you’re always trying to ruin things that are supposed to be good for us, this is just another one of your lies and you know it, oh don’t give me that look if it were true you wouldn’t be smirking like that, Janus—”

He’s fifteen. There’s a girl in his class that won’t leave him alone, cornering him whenever she can and asking him on a date, refusing to take no for an answer, even when he confesses that he’s gay and has no interest in women. If her friends are with her, she’ll loudly proclaim they’re already dating and that he’s just being shy, because he’s still small and quiet and hides in whatever clothing he can find that covers him up from head to toe, so shyness is a believable excuse for his actions. A few times she grabs him and forces him into a kiss, and nobody stops her because they think his reaction of shock and anger is part of the game. One day, he breaks into her locker, steals her things, and throws them in the trash. There’s one item he keeps, a bracelet, which he wears around for the remainder of the day; and when asked about it he smiles and says his girlfriend got it for him, and because of all the lies the girl’s told, it’s a statement that goes unquestioned. She never finds out what he did, but she _does_ leave him alone, and he finds out weeks later that she moved away, finally allowing him to breathe. He keeps the bracelet in a box under his bed, a sense of control and justice giving him a high for weeks after the fact—

He’s seventeen and graduation is just around the corner. Exhaustion and loneliness are the only things keeping him company, with his mother working two jobs that take up all of her time. But there’s a guy down the hall from his apartment complex that won’t leave him be, so it’s not like he’s always alone, as much as he would prefer solitude. He can’t decide yet what the other wants, but he knows something has to be at the root of their meetings. It’s nothing new to him now; he’s learned that people only interact with him when they want something from him, evident by the hidden collection of stolen goods in his room and the scribbled notes he keeps in the box listing each person’s offense against him. The stranger’s name is Remus, he soon learns; he has an interest in forensics and art, a bit of a talker and evidently morbid given the jokes he tells, but has a good heart overall. As annoying as the other is sometimes, he finds that Remus is more tolerable than anyone else he knows, so against his better judgment he opens up—

He’s nineteen and Remus holds the box in his hands, eerily silent, waiting for an explanation. They’ve been roommates since graduation, friends despite how he keeps the other at a distance, but now, seeing Remus with that old, worn box, there’s an overwhelming sense of resignation, already waiting for the other shoe to drop now that he’s been caught. He knows that there’s nothing he can say that will make this situation look better or that will make Remus understand. Nobody’s believed him yet; nobody’s cared enough to even listen before, let alone had the chance to decide whether or not to believe him.

And he knows Remus is no different. There are no exceptions.

So, leaning against his cane and hiding his shaking hands as best he can, fighting against his better judgment to just run and hide, he tells the truth, and once he starts, he can’t stop. He starts with the box and goes as far back as he can remember, the words tumbling out of him as though they were ripped from his chest.

And once he’s finished, he waits, preparing for Remus to yell at him. To accuse him of lying. To push him away and leave, never to be seen or heard from again.

Instead, Remus sets the box down on the bed, brushing off his hands on his pant legs. An open, alarmingly sheepish expression crosses his face, a stark contrast from the anger and hatred Janus expected.

_Okay…is there anything I can do to help with that?_

Janus’ nerves go into overdrive.

_You’re not upset?_

_I mean, a little, yeah, considering some of this shit is mine—but for the most part, it doesn’t really matter to me. They’re just_ things _, Jan; things can get replaced. Seems pretty stupid to get mad about it now, especially if it was in the past. Hell, if anything I’m more concerned about you and whether or not you’re okay. That sounds like a lot of shit to be dealing with on your own._

_It’s not for a lack of trying—_

_Christ, Jan, I’m not saying you didn’t try. I know you tried. I’m saying that everyone else didn’t._

_…I still don’t believe that you’re as unbothered by this as you claim you are._

Remus smiles at that, all teeth and unbridled energy.

_Well, luckily for you, it takes a lot more than this to get under my skin. And besides, it’s not like I’m the spitting image of perfect coping mechanisms—it’d be pretty fucked of me to judge you when I’ve got skeletons in my own closet._

He…doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know how to react at all, especially when Remus opens his arms out to him, making grabby hands in his direction.

So, once the shock has subsided and he realizes Remus still hasn’t moved, looking at him as though he were the sun, he takes a step forward and allows the other to wrap his arms around him. His eyes slip closed.

They’ll sort through everything later and see what can be done and what he wants to do. For now, they hold each other, and Janus feels an ache deep inside of him start to heal over as years of suffering in silence finally see the light. It’s this thought that helps him find the words he’s looking for.

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to request a story, please direct it to our [tumblr](https://namediscomfort.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> Also, would you believe us if we told you we wrote this for practice reasons?


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